


the show must (not) go on

by minium



Series: Persona [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, November 20 Interrogation (Persona 5), Psychological Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-06 23:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minium/pseuds/minium
Summary: He turned his back.He didn’t look back.





	the show must (not) go on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KelpieChaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpieChaos/gifts).

> I tried my hand at writing fluff.

How absolutely divine it was to grab a fistful of that dark hair and just— _pull_. No heed paid to pained shouts, to the way nails scraped against a sensitive scalp. Goro gazed down dispassionately. How _pathetic_. How eager his enemy was willing to surrender, _to lose this game._

<del>This little show he spent all this time preforming— it was the start of the end.</del>

Slowly sinking down, his forehead met another. Gazes unmoving, neither of them turned away. A vivid red flush walked its way up a pale neck. 

Loosening the hold his fingers had on silky dark strands, he trailed his hands ever so slowly down, ending the slow caress to let hands rest ontop the solid line of Akira’s shoulders. 

Inhale. _Exhale._

Fingers moving from their prone position, he turned his attention to the divots, the hollows of _that_ throat which held his attention so. Goro considered the way Akira struggled to swallow. _He pressed down all at once. _Akira gasped. Goro smiled, increasing the pressure until he was sure to see the bloom of purple, marring the white expanse stretching out below eager hands. Skin a painting. His intentions clear. And. And. And. 

_Why do you get everything so easily_. Goro struggled; he toiled. Not a fraction of return. Where was the fairness in that? In this? 

Look at you now. Begging me with your eyes. Like, _I’d let you. So easily._

Holding that position, satisfaction ran its fierce rush through thrumming veins, and— _more_, more, more, the longer this went on— the longer he denied the leader of The Phantom Thieves breath. For a moment— only for a moment— to the natural conclusion, he could, he could, but then, he thought— why would he— waste this opportunity? He could go so much farther than _this_. Oh, he was loathe to release that delightful expression of pained, pleading desperation. But. He wanted more. _He wanted so much more._

Now free, Akira choked on nothing. Relief softened his delicate features. Goro let up the pressure, but his hands _stayed_— stayed hovering over the end of everything. He could. He _could_. Akira’s gazed distantly, but Goro— Goro couldn’t look away. Even with— _what had just happened_, Akira wasn’t running away. 

They were. 

They were _still here_. 

<del>This little show he spent all this time preforming— it was the start of the end. </del>

If Akira was so willing to walk into the fire, Goro would make sure he_ burned_. 

Look. Look at me. _Look at me. _He tilted the other’s chin and Akira’s eyes shifted to stare into his own. Roaring, rushing, the static in his mind quieted. Shutting parted lips, he swallowed down words he couldn’t say. Don’t. _Don’t._ Never. Look away from me again. 

He only took what already belonged to him. Akira opened himself up to him so easily, so readily. _So far gone. He was so far gone for him._

It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was Goro’s best attempt at possession. 

_A sigh._ Only me. Blood flooded and still, they didn’t stop, didn’t pause, just continued. Goro bit down more harshly. And. Akira let him. Akira let him have him. Lightheadedness was all he could find. He couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. This was— dangerous. _Akira remained dangerous._

_<del>He was so far gone for him.</del>_

Goro leaned away, stepped away from the chair. When he saw the way Akira mindlessly followed— followed his lead. _Akira. _No time was given to voice a protest. All else was silenced; it was just this, this, _this_. Fizzing up his spine, held in the closest thrall— ah— _Akira_. 

Come. Come to me. _Give me everything._

_Akira._

Closer by his tie, Goro allowed the pull; followed until, _until_, there were only inches left. 

Hello. Nice to meet you. _Hello_, I fucking hate you. Completely. Absolutely. Goro fucking hated Akira. 

Dark eyes peered up at him through full lashes as Akira slowly— _infuriatingly so_— unbuttoned. 

Just this. Just for his satisfaction. He would tie Akira up in all of this, tangle him in it. He would break him. He would. _He would._

_Goro would be the one to destroy Akira._

He turned his gaze away from hazed eyes to drink in all the skin on the offer. It was all too easy. So easy. Akira was so easy for him. 

Bare it all. Kill the lights. He was shutting this <del>everything</del> down. It was over. It was… all _over_. The requiem to all his hopes and dreams began now. This little show he spent all this time preforming— it was all the start of the end. 

Join me. _Join me, Akira._ Let’s fall— _together_. 

Welcome to the fire. 

And they did fall. Goro’s view consisted of the panting mess above him. He trailed a hand up a slippery thigh; temptingly, slowly, he watched. 

Desperation overtook. 

Touch me. 

_Touch_ me. 

Oh, I didn’t hear? What do you want? 

Please. 

_Please._

Just fucking touch me, already— _as much of a scream as it was a plea_—fucking touch me. 

Since you asked so nicely. 

That’s— 

Not enough? _Too bad._

_You want this? Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. _

Give in. Give in. _Give in to me._

Into the soft flesh of a warm shoulder, he sunk his teeth down. Hard, harder. He _needed_. The pained tempo of Akira’s breath rang wondrously in his ears. Pinpricks of red sprouted underneath his touch and it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. This wasn’t enough— to satisfy. He needed. More. He always wanted— _more_. 

The leg he had pressed in between Akira’s own increased in pressure before leaving completely. He rose to a stand. Akira leaned back onto his hands. 

Goro’s belt dropped to the floor. 

Akira didn’t hesitate. 

Goro grabbed fistfuls of those dark strands once again, pushing Akira to his limit and then trying him further. He watched the way Akira choked on his cock, attention rapt. His enemy didn’t stop, didn’t complain. _So eager for this._

You’re never getting away. You fell with me. 

Kill the show. Kill the actors. 

Did you really think? You’d be getting out of this _alive_? 

In his hand, he held Akira’s undoing. The cold sensation of a gun a shock in his fevered hands. Akira’s widened eyes, rabbiting pulse— that expression of _fear_. 

Finally. Finally. This was honesty. Beat. Bea— beat. Goro’s sped up further, while Akira’s kept falling— slow, slowly down. _Honesty._

The way those beautiful eyes dulled, the slackened (trusting) grip, and the last breath. He set down his gun. Painting the most exquisite picture, Goro memorized the sight, tracing the line of a soft, unmoving cheek. His hand came away painted in hues of a deep red. Goro smiled, rising. The red-stained figure of his enemy defeated before him was a sight he’d never forget. You never got away. _You fell with me._

He turned his back. 

He didn’t look back. 

It was only later he understood how thoroughly he had been played. But by then, there were no exits, no escaping his inevitable fate. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed— full-bodied laughter that wracked his frame. Of course. _Of fucking course. _

_Akira always got everything._

And Goro? Goro was done. This little show he spent all this time preforming— it was at the end. 

Kill the show. Kill the actor. 

_Curtain fall._


End file.
